


In the Bluebell Woods

by SherlockScones



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Alfred is an idiot, Fae arthur, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-07
Updated: 2020-06-07
Packaged: 2021-03-04 01:28:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 756
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24595297
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SherlockScones/pseuds/SherlockScones
Summary: Alfred meets the most beautiful man he has ever seen but his naivete lands him in trouble
Relationships: America/England (Hetalia)
Comments: 10
Kudos: 45





	In the Bluebell Woods

Alfred blinked as his eyes adjusted to the sunlight. He stood in a field of grass and bluebells. It was quiet; a far cry from the pounding music a moment ago.

Before him a lithe man—now clothed in flowing white fabric—lounged on a wooden… throne? It was hard to tell as it simultaneously looked both in and out of place amongst the trees. The natural twisting of wood and vines in the very unnatural shape of a chair. The blond perched on top was no longer paying attention to Alfred, content to idly browse a large bowl of fruit presented on the back of a rabbit. The dappled sunlight playing on his golden hair.

Alfred curled his toes in the cool grass as he frowned, confused. His mouth opened, then closed. Then opened and closed again. Finally he settled on asking, “Where are we?”

Picking out a ripe peach to inspect, the man—Arthur, yes that was his name—Arthur said, “Alfred, you should take off your clothes.”

Alfred started to unbutton his shirt, “you didn’t answer my question,” he looked around at what was obviously a clearing in a forest as he unbuckled his pants, “where are we?”

“Hmm?” Arthur watched as his boxers dropped to his ankles.

“Hey are you even listening to…” He felt the breeze on his bare buttocks, “hey! Why am I naked?”

Arthur bit into his peach. “Because I like you naked.”

He went beet red. “Well I don’t!”

A pause. Then Arthur sighed. “Your pouting spoils the view. Very well.” he clicked his fingers and a deer popped out from behind a tree. A see-through garment trailed from its antlers in the same flowing style as Arthur’s but skimped far more in terms of fabric.

“I’m not wearing that!”

An eye roll, “Alfred, put on the clothes.”

Alfred grumbled, but found himself doing as he was told. He caught himself as he finished the task. Why was he doing this? And more worryingly why couldn’t he stop himself?

“How...” his throat was dry, “how are you able to do that?”

“To do what?” Arthur had a smirk on his face.

He blushed, “you know what! Make me… undress myself, put on this… this—” He gestured in frustration because he had no idea to describe the silky and very revealing outfit he now wore, “THIS!”

“Yes, very nice…” Arthur purred as he stood up and casually strolled around him. Green eyes inspecting every inch. Alfred shifted under his hungry gaze.

“It’s simple,” he said from behind him, “you gave me your name and now you are mine.”

Alfred frowned, “my name? what does my name have to do with anything?” As he asked the question, he began to recall a memory.

_They pressed together urgently, Arthur capturing his lips into a deep kiss._

_“Sweet…” he murmured as he tasted him. It sent a shiver up Alfred's spine. Out of all the guys at the club, this beauty had chosen him. "_ _Can I have your name?”_

_He chuckled, the warmth of the alcohol and the body against him making his head swim, “I already told you; Alfred.”_

_A playful nip on the ear whilst a hand went under his shirt made his breath hitch. Hot breath tickled as an amused rumble vibrated through his chest, “no, your full one, the one your mother gave you…”_

Arthur interrupted his thoughts, “do mortals know nothing these days? Such a valuable thing, a name. You; all wrapped up in a neat little package. A gift so precious should never be given so freely,” he shook his head as he appeared in front of him, “no wonder I got your name so easily.”

A feeling of uncertainty washed over him. “Wait. If that’s true… Is Arthur even your name?”

‘Arthur’ grinned.

Alfred gulped, his anxiety settling into the pit of his stomach. The surreal scene before him took on an unsettling hue. A chill ran down his spine. He was not sure he wanted to know the answer to his next question, but he couldn’t help but ask it. “What do you mean I am yours?”

‘Arthur’ leaned in. A hand snaking to caress his hair, fingertips pressing as green eyes held his own. Alfred thought he caught a hint of something sinister in his leer.

“It means, Alfred Frederick Jones, you _belong_ to me.” ‘Arthur’ stated. “Now,” with his free hand he brought up the half eaten peach, his smile never quite reaching his eyes, “why don’t you have something to eat?”


End file.
